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The Valley of Wild Horses

Zane Grey

The Yellow Mine Saloon was like every gambling dive Panhandle Smith had seen from Montana to Mexico. Piles of gold and greenbacks littered the roulette and faro tables. Drunken miners stamped to and from the long mahogany bar. An odor of whiskey mingled with the thick tobacco haze. Suddenly, one of the gamblers turned, and Smith recognized Dick Hardman, the man he had followed a thousand miles - to kill.

The Yellow Mine Saloon was like every gambling dive Panhandle Smith had seen from Montana to Mexico. Piles of gold and greenbacks littered the roulette and faro tables. Drunken miners stamped to and from the long mahogany bar. An odor of whiskey mingled with the thick tobacco haze. Suddenly, one of the gamblers turned, and Smith recognized Dick Hardman, the man he had followed a thousand miles - to kill.

The Yellow Mine Saloon was like every gambling dive Panhandle Smith had seen from Montana to Mexico. Piles of gold and greenbacks littered the roulette and faro tables. Drunken miners stamped to and from the long mahogany bar. An odor of whiskey mingled with the thick tobacco haze. Suddenly, one of the gamblers turned, and Smith recognized Dick Hardman, the man he had followed a thousand miles - to kill.